


Stings Like A...

by drevis



Series: Ain't Love a Kick in the Head? [7]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Amnesiac Courier (Fallout), Awkward Flirting, Bugs & Insects, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Constipation, Emotionally Repressed, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jealousy, Love Triangles, M/M, Medical Procedures, Near Death Experiences, Oops, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:19:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drevis/pseuds/drevis
Summary: Goddamn cazadors, goddamn feelings, goddamn Arcade Gannon.
Relationships: Craig Boone/Male Courier, Male Courier/Arcade Gannon
Series: Ain't Love a Kick in the Head? [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942657
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Stings Like A...

**Author's Note:**

> jesus i hate my own writing sorry this took so long u_u it's been drafted out since like august i think, i've been working s l o w l y. god, men. that's the post.  
> i just think theyre neat  
> uh, yeah. as always comments are appreciated please flame me/criticise me/profess your undying love to me or whatever. are they ooc? probably. do i care? far too much.  
> on with the show!~

Cazador venom wasn't deadly in a single sting, but Elsewhere had been stung more times than he could count. He dropped to the ground after filling his insect adversaries with lead, propping himself up on a rock and calling out for Boone with a strangled cry. His vision swam as he yelled out again, voice straining from the pain tearing through him. Letting loose a wail of anguish, he feebly clawed at the thick fabric of his shirt, hoping that his agony would be at least slightly relieved by less contact with the wounds. After what seemed like hours, he felt warm, calloused hands on his face. Boone swore under his breath.

"Damn it, Elsewhere, wake up! Don't leave me, come on…"

A cool, thin rim of a glass bottle pressed against Elsewhere's half-parted lips and a bitter liquid flowed down his throat. His weak muscles struggled to swallow the antivenom, his head lolling to the side as his neck spasmed. Boone held his mouth shut so nothing spilled out, using his free hand to stroke Elsewhere's hair.

"You're gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay."

Another moan of pain left Elsewhere in response. He felt Boone's arms around him, a frantic attempt at comfort.

"Come on, come on… Hold onto me, Else, I'm gonna get you somewhere safe."

Boone hooked his arms under Elsewhere's shoulders and pulled him up. He held the courier up against his own body, continuing to mutter encouragement. With great difficulty, Elsewhere's dead weight was lifted onto Boone's back.

They were at least a mile outside of Freeside, on the long trek there after having finally accumulated enough caps between the both of them to gain entry into the Strip. Boone didn't care about how far away they were, though; Elsewhere was _going_ to get treated. He was going to get better.

He had to.

Arcade didn't expect a major disturbance in his daily routine; he was used to pacing around the Fort and thinking about potential natural remedies. Julie- Dr. Farkas- was always shooting him impatient looks; she wanted some sort of breakthrough soon. He didn't know what to do. The list of flora he hadn't tried to make use of was miles shorter than the list of those he had, but he couldn't just give up. Maybe more field work would be beneficial.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the stir caused by a frantic man heaving a bloodied, unconscious figure through the gate of the Fort. He was so far gone that nothing drew his attention until said man shoved the barely-breathing person into his arms.

"Cazadors," the stranger said, breathing hard. "Can you fix him?"

Arcade stood there, stunned at what was happening. He was no doctor- his position was that of a researcher; hell, he wasn't even a good one. His mouth opened and closed a few times.

"I'm not-"

Arcade cut himself off, looking closer at the man in front of him. His eyes were wide behind his aviators and his hands shook. Arcade sighed.

"I'll see what I can do." He began walking to a tent, gesturing for the man to follow with his new patient. "How bad?"

"I don't know. He was unconscious when I found him, but I gave him a bottle of antivenom right away.”

“And how long has it been?”

"We were a couple of miles away. I came as fast as I could."

As they conversed, Arcade laid the unconscious man out on a table. He watched his eyes weakly flutter open, staring up at the canvas ceiling with a mismatched gaze. The doctor knew he was staring, and he knew some ethical code or another would be breached by his thoughts alone, but damn it if this stranger wasn’t pretty… He shook his head and turned toward a shelf of medical supplies.

“What’s his name?” Arcade asked, rummaging through a crate of bottles. He pulled out a few small brown vials and turned back to his patient.

“Elsewhere." Boone's lips twitched impatiently as he said that. "You can call me Boone.”

Arcade’s hands began to tremble as he dabbed a foul-smelling ointment on a clean scrap of gauze. Boone was standing stock-still at the injured man's side, watching every move Arcade made with an eagle eye.

“...Craig?”

The courier’s lips barely moved as he spoke, his voice coming out in a weak murmur. In an instant, the sniper’s hand shot out to stroke Elsewhere’s hair. It was apparent that such a gesture was foreign for both parties involved, as the courier’s eyes opened once again and Boone looked pointedly at the floor. With a hum to himself, the researcher noticed that Elsewhere’s left eyelid drooped considerably, almost certainly affecting his vision. _That must be from extensive nerve damage_ , he mused. 

“I’m gonna be okay, alright?” The courier’s smile was audible, a delightful Southern charm tinging the ends of his words. “Why don’t you go ‘n get our packs from where you left ‘em?”

The sniper nodded, pulling his hand away from Elsewhere with the most hesitation Arcade had ever seen. Boone left the tent slowly, posture as ramrod-straight as it was when he entered the Fort, not a trace of his anxiety observable. Arcade snapped his gaze away from the back of the soldier. He had a duty to attend to, after all; Elsewhere was in rough shape. Arcade sighed and began to remove the careful layers of clothing on the man's upper body. He felt a weak chuckle beneath him.

"At least buy me dinner first, Doctor. I barely even know ya."

Arcade kept working. He wondered how Elsewhere could handle the sweltering heat with what he was wearing, it _had_ to be unbearable under four layers of fabric. Arcade grimaced once the final shirt, a stained white tank top, was removed; the courier's whole abdomen was covered in bruising welts, damp with pus at the crest. Arcade counted seven, and closer inspection showed at least three on each arm.

"This is going to sting. Try to breathe as deeply as you can."

He didn't even wait for a response as he began to apply the foul medicine. Arcade really did feel sorry for Elsewhere, shooting him a sympathetic look when he whined in pain. He had to admit, Elsewhere was a fantastic patient. He complied with everything Arcade asked, most likely from a desire to ease his own pain.

"Can you sit up, Elsewhere?"

"Hm. I ain't nearly as weak, I think the antidote finally did somethin'."

Elsewhere sat up very slowly, immediately going pale and gripping the edges of the table. He groaned, body heaving like he was going to vomit. Arcade handed him another bottle of antivenom, one he had opened for the weaker man.

"You're a godsend, doc."

Elsewhere flashed a shaky smile and downed the antidote like it was a shot. He gasped for breath, winded from exerting his exhausted body.

"I'm going to apply some bandages, then you're all good to rest again."

Arcade got a nod in response and rifled through a drawer for a roll of bandages. Once he found them, he stood in front of Elsewhere, deciding what the best way to wrap his wounds would be. He took his patient's right arm and unrolled the dressings onto it.

"You're awful tall, doc." Elsewhere sounded nearly delirious. "What do they put in the water here?"

As he cut the bandage and moved on to Elsewhere's other arm, Arcade spoke. 

"You don't have to call me that, you know. I'm not even a doctor, I just do research." He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from rambling.

"What's your name, then?"

"Arcade. Arcade Gannon. I, uh, I'm not really used to this whole… thing."

The researcher started to wind the bandages around Elsewhere's chest, tucking his left arm under Elsewhere's so he could pass the roll along. He felt bony hands on his back, and realized he was being pulled into a hug.

"Uh," Arcade said into the air above Elsewhere's shoulder. "What are you… Why are you doing that."

The much shorter man flinched away, cheeks ablaze. He covered his face and moaned in embarrassment. 

"Goddamn, I'm sorry, Arcade. Your arms were on both sides of me, that was total instinct." He peeked through his fingers. "Fuck. That wasn't cool, I'm real sorry."

Arcade laughed and continued his work. Something inside that he pushed down into the corner of his mind wanted to go in again, give Elsewhere a proper hug. It had been far too long since he had been hugged, but he _barely_ knew the man.

The rest of the process went by in silence. Arcade handled Elsewhere with the utmost care, something inside of him fearing Boone's anger if he hurt Elsewhere. A million questions bit the back of his tongue, yet he swallowed them back down like a bitter pill without water. He wondered about the track marks he saw, the story behind the jagged scar reaching across his forehead and left temple. It embarrassed him to think about his obsession with the details of other people's lives; they all lived more interesting lives than he did, but would it matter to ask for their stories if you would never see them again?

He handed Elsewhere his shirts, still somewhat lost in thought. The other man mumbled a thank you that Arcade barely registered, a drowsy sort of thing that could be easily mistaken for a wordless groan.

"I'm gonna go to sleep now, I think."

Elsewhere began to lie back down, undershirt half-on, but Arcade stopped him.

"I can bring you to something better resembling a bed." Arcade blushed. "That, uh, isn't a euphemism. You seem to be, well, spoken for."

He helped Elsewhere up, keeping a steady hand on his lower back to guide him. Barely-audible giggles surprised Arcade, and he looked down at Elsewhere to see what was so funny.

"You think Boone and I are…?" He laughed again, a frantic nervousness tightening his throat. "No, no, we're just travellin' together. Real close, though, that sorta happens when you save each other's lives."

As Elsewhere explained the intricacies of his relationship with Boone, Arcade guided him out to another tent, one with a cot that would be miles better to sleep on than an examination table. He didn't quite believe the two were _just_ travelling together. There was something there, a closeness stronger than the bond of friendship. He didn't press it, though, that wasn't his place.

Elsewhere laid down with Arcade's help, eyes almost immediately snapping shut. He managed a small "thank you" before completely falling asleep, his body automatically relaxing. Arcade stood by him until Boone returned, rocking on his heels in anticipation of delivering good news.

That night came and went; the morning, too, passed without incident. Elsewhere slept through it all, hardly moving during his slumber. Boone stayed by his side that night, sleeping in a chair he brought over from the guard post. In the morning, he walked around the settlement, checking on Elsewhere every few minutes. Arcade had told him Elsewhere would be functional by the afternoon. Boone responded with something close to, "Good, I can't wait to get out of this place."

Boone didn't know _why_ he was this jealous, Elsewhere was just his friend. They were friends who had sex and kissed more frequently than he cared to admit; nothing between them had been declared a relationship, so as far as he was concerned, they were just friends. His feelings said otherwise, but those could always be pushed down. _Friends._

He was grateful for Arcade. Elsewhere would be dead if it weren't for him. Losing Elsewhere would be number one on his list of Tragic Events in His Lifetime, tied with losing Carla. Both of those would have been his fault, so he supposed he was fine with causing only one major tragedy. It was him who suggested they split up to find the most forage and game. Their rations were pitifully low, only a few packages of apples and some tinned beans between the two of them. Elsewhere was already antsy about there being no burnt-out hospitals or pharmacies to scour, so the stress of not having enough food was an unfair weight to bear. Boone just wanted to help, but look where that had gotten them.

Elsewhere was so peaceful when he was truly asleep. It wasn't hard to tell when he was faking, his worried frown stayed firmly on his face. When he was really sleeping, though… It was almost like a smile. Boone was never the best with words, even in his own thoughts. He knew he was infatuated with the gentle face he saw in front of him, and that was good enough. Sitting in a chair beside him was far too distant, so he moved to sit on the ground next to the mattress. Elsewhere stirred and uttered an incoherent mumble, shifting so he fully faced Boone. He was still asleep.

If he stared long enough, maybe Elsewhere would wake up. Maybe he would be better, good enough to get the hell away from this place and the blond doctor he both admired and despised. They could get a room in the Atomic Wrangler, Boone could hold him, and they could pretend life was normal. That sounded nice. He absentmindedly reached out to stroke Elsewhere's hair, figuring it wouldn't hurt to show some affection here. Nobody was looking at them. He heard a pleased sigh that made his chest ache.

"Hey there, darlin'."

Boone flinched and looked to Elsewhere's face again. His eyes were open in that half-asleep way, a grin plastered on his mouth. Another ache in his chest.

"Always a good mornin' when I wake up and see you."

Boone refused to admit he was in love.

"You two aren't going anywhere yet. He needs his bandages changed."

The two men froze in place when they heard Arcade. It was almost comical, really; they turned to face each other with wide eyes, then turned back to face the scientist. He stood with his hands on his hips, expression inscrutable due to the distance between them.

"We've been caught, ol' buddy." Elsewhere laughed and playfully slugged Boone in the arm. "Wanna go out guns blazin'?"

Boone rolled his eyes, lips turning up into an almost-smile. He took Elsewhere's hand in his own for a moment as they trudged towards Arcade, pulling back like he had been shocked when he remembered _where_ they were. Arcade pretended not to notice.

"Doc," Elsewhere said. "You're killin' me. I'm just tryin' to go ruin the life of the guy who shot me in the head, what's the big holdup?"

Arcade guided him to the examination table again, then turned to the cabinet behind him to find bandages. Somehow, Elsewhere getting shot in the head and surviving didn't surprise him. He seemed to have a lot of tenacity in that little body of his, with all of the scars on him that would be otherwise fatal wounds.

"Who shot you?"

By now, Arcade had found bandages, and he stepped back towards his patient. Elsewhere was in the middle of removing all of his shirts at the same time, and Arcade once again wondered how he hadn't died of heatstroke yet. Soon enough, Elsewhere was as undressed as was appropriate.

"Some fuckhead named Benny or whatever. Wearin' a dumb checkered suit, talks like he thinks he's hot shit."

"Jesus, he is hot shit! He runs one of the casinos over in Vegas, the Tops. How did you get on _his_ bad side?"

"Suppose I was carryin' some important item, some chip or whatever. Important enough to shoot me in the head and leave me with practically nothin' up here."

Elsewhere tapped his temple, earning a light smack to the wrist by Arcade for moving while he removed the last of the old bandages.

"So, you remember nothing besides… what, your name?"

Elsewhere hummed.

"Not quite. I know the year I was born, my name…" The courier's face scrunched up in thought. "I know that I was born in Kentucky… Oh, and I kinda remember my old profession. Y'know. Courier for th' Mojave Express."

His face lit up in a wry grin. It wasn't exactly hard for him to know he had been a courier; every damn town he went to there were whispers of him being _the_ courier who returned from the grave. He couldn't escape recognition.

"What year is it again?"

Arcade hummed and thought for a moment. His response was quicker than anything Elsewhere could hope to produce.

"It's 2281. Time must be strange after getting shot in the head."

"Damn. I'm 28 this year."

Boone broke his silence at that, choking on his long draught from a too-warm bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla he had pulled from his knapsack. His eyes went wide behind his sunglasses, and he spoke, bluntly as ever:

"You're older than me."

"No shit?" The courier grinned once more, turning to face the other man. "I coulda sworn you were older! How old're ya, Boone?"

"Just turned 26."

An involuntary groan slipped from Arcade as an immediate response. Elsewhere looked up from the doctor's hands as they dropped the small roll of bandages being used to rewrap the wounds on his arm.

"Come on, doc, don't be like that." Elsewhere openly raked his eyes over Arcade, smirking. "You can't be a day over 25."

Arcade coughed nervously, feeling a hot blush tinge the tips of his ears at the open admiration of his figure. He pulled his lab coat closer around himself before going back to carefully wrapping the courier's wound.

"I appreciate your flattery, truly, but that's just factually untrue. I'm getting a little round around the middle, spotting grey hair already… I can't believe how young you two are. I envy it."

This earned him a low whistle from the courier and a scoff from the grumpy man on the other side of the tent. The sniper shot Arcade a look, scowling as he spoke.

"Can you describe how much you hate yourself in even _more_ words?" 

Boone's jealous glare intrigued him; of _course_ the two were more than just travelling companions. When Elsewhere was unconscious on a medical cot, all Boone did was wander around the fort like a lost puppy. The guards liked him, though, marvelling at the 'real-life First Recon sniper!' Arcade had to stop himself from gagging. As far as he was concerned, the NCR could kiss his ass.

"Bet it makes ya nice t' hold at night, doc."

Arcade's attention snapped back to the man in front of him. His hands began to tremble and his cheeks got warm. He hoped Elsewhere wouldn't notice the effect he was having on him.

The courier tugged his lower lip between his teeth. "Bet you're awful warm… Useful in the cold desert evenin'..." 

The man's voice had dropped to what could only be described as a purr. Arcade felt his face turn even hotter, eyes widening in surprise that the courier was that bold. What could he say to that?

"Overt flirtation will get you everywhere, you know."

The words left his mouth before he realized what he was saying, the part of his brain that was starved for this sort of attention suddenly taking control and making him wink. It took everything in him not to excuse himself from the area and hide somewhere dark and safe. God, he must have been embarrassing to be around.

"I wonder just how far you'll let me take ya, then."

Boone cleared his throat. "If you two are _done_ , we have a _job_ to do on the Strip."

The courier looked over at his companion, a lazy grin on his face. He hopped down from the table and crossed to Boone, knocked his beret off, then placed a hand on his head, expression considerably softening when he felt the slightly grown out buzz cut. The look on the sniper's face went from annoyed to something almost resembling contentment. 

"Now hold on a tick, Boone," Elsewhere said. "We could use a guy to stitch us up when the Legion raidin' parties get the better of us. Judgin' by the way I'm practically good as new within a day of near dyin', Arcade here's got some real skill."

Boone's nearly pleasant expression twitched into a sullen frown. He muttered something under his breath, kicking at the dusty ground. Elsewhere seemed to take it as a yes.

"I hope I can be more than just useful," Arcade mused.

"We'll see about that. How much time are ya gonna need to pack?"

Arcade looked around the tent, taking note of everything he might need to bring.

"Maybe an hour, hour and a half at the longest. I have to say my goodbyes before I leave."

"We'll be right here waitin' for you."

Boone grunted. "Put your shirt back on first. And give me my beret."

**Author's Note:**

> boone is allowed to feel no more than one emotion per day or else he catches on fire


End file.
